Question Existing
by The makeup freak
Summary: What's Harley thinking in that little head of hers? Why does she stick around with him if all he does is hurt her?


The bruises, oh the bruises. Why does he hurt her so? All she wanted was love. That's all she ever wanted from him. And what does he do? He hits her. He teases her with pleasure and lust and then what does he do? He hits her, beats her, punishes her. What did she do? Harley wasn't a bad girl, no. She would always do what her Mistah J told her. Harley was a giver. She'd give, give, give until Joker took everything from her. He was a 'taker'. A receiver, if you will. He'd take, take, take until Harley had nothing more left to give his clown. Why was it, that some days she felt like he hated her- the beatings, the cuts… And other days she felt almost like he actually… loved… her.

He'd just done it. Again. Beaten her senseless and left her to bleed against the white painted wall. Her makeup smudged from her tears, crimson red blood dripping down her face. He'd started to carve a smile into her face- but stopped. Why'd he stop? Who knows. Blood trickled down her swollen black lips and she cringed in pain. She'd have a black eye now. Twitching her fingers, she moaned in pain. She'd have a broken arm now. Shifting her body, she latched onto whatever she could for support. She'd have a bruised stomach now.

Hours. It must've been a good two hours she was on the floor. In the same spot. Maybe even longer than two. Finally, she moved. Crawling weakly a few inches from her original spot where she collapsed on the ground and cried out loudly from the sharp drop. "Ooowww." She mumbled into the carpet, tears filling her ducts again and she felt as if she'd self combust. Why'd he have to do it? Be so mean… Was it her? Yes. _She _was the problem. It was _her._ Using the bed to lift herself up, she limped over to the full length mirror to look at the jaded, jagged jester staring back at her. She then gasped, pulling off her harlequin costume to gaze at herself. She let her baby blues give her a once over and she felt the tears building up again. She thought she looked hideous. No wonder he didn't love her. It wasn't like she didn't try- she did… She did. Her thoughts boggled but she found herself thinking..

_Take off my shirt, loosen the buttons and undo my skirt.  
Stare at myself in the mirror. Pick me apart piece by piece.  
Sorrow decrease. Pressure release._

_I put in work.  
Did more than call upon, more than deserved  
When it was over did I wind up hurt?  
_"Yes."  
_But it taught me before a decision, ask this question first;_

"Who am I living for?" She spoke aloud, then returned to her thoughts for peace again.

_Is this my limit?  
Can I endure some more?  
Chances are given. Question existing.  
_

Now, Harley was a smart girl. She knew what she could take, and what she couldn't. This. This, she couldn't take. Not the humility, the pain, the abandoning… Because she takes the abuse.

_Sometimes if feels like he want me to loose.  
'It makes me happy' is that an excuse?  
_"NO!"  
_But the question that lingers, will I win or lose?_

And she did lose. Every day and every night. He called the shots, he owned her. He told her what to do and she did it. She had no freedom and the constant question kept appearing over and over again.

Who was she living for?

Was it him? Was he the reason why she got up every morning? What a stupid reason. Was it to be beaten or abused by a psychopath? "Yes." Admitted the girl aloud. Yes it was. Because weather she liked it or not, she was in love with him_._ She hated that though, she hated it. She hated how he had some overall control over her weather she had a say or not. It was like she was at his frickin' bark 'n call. When he said 'jump' Harley would say 'How high?' because she wanted to. Because it was more than want. It was lust, it was love. It was the fact that he'd kiss her some time.

The fact that he'd hold her and tell her she was special sometime. Because he did do that. Just… Rarely. Because she knew that underneath all that, he was a loving man. Frightened and lonely. He just wanted love and perhaps Harley expressed the emotion too often for him to handle. He was afraid and even worse, afraid to admit he was afraid. Slowly and carefully removing herself from her suit, she stripped into nothing. She needed to take a shower. Her body was covered in dirt, dry blood, bruises, cuts and makeup.

Into the bathroom she went until she was alone. Locking the door, she caught another glimpse at herself and felt the oceans begin to pour from her heavenly eyes. As she turned on the shower, she heard shut her eyes to clear her confused thoughts. Confused, that's what she was. How was she to know weather to love him or hate him when he was sending her mixed messages… and not to mention making her feel these mixed emotions, constantly? It wasn't fair. No, not fair. And she wasn't going to take it anymore.

The sound of the water hitting the bottom of the plastic shower calmed her slightly and she relaxed her facial expression. Better. Into the shower she went and she sighed as the water began to wash her frets away. That's nice. She would do it. It was all clear now. She'd leave him- in the middle of night. Never look back; no! That's right, she'd go live with red. Someone who cared about her and wouldn't treat her like this. She needed to get him off her mind and that would be the only way. It was thought through now, all planed out, all--

_Tap, tap, tap._

Who the…?

"Harleey?" Sang a familiar voice on the other side of the door and Harley froze._ Oh. Shit._ Turning the shower off to hear what he was saying, she kept quiet. "Yeh-yes?" She chocked out, her voice cracked. There was a small giggle and then he continued.

"Come out here baby. Daddy needs to give his Harley-girl some TLC." Joker said. He meant it, she could tell. And that was enough for her. Without even a second thought, Harley was out of the shower. Forget the towel! She opened the door and within seconds, the Joker was staring at a scared, naked Harley Quinn. A huge smile on his face as he eyed her, the clown laughed.

"What a good girl." He growled.


End file.
